Chapter 1

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Hey guys I'm a bit new to writing and sorry if the first chapter is a bit intense but I hope you like it :) I would really like feedback but please don't hate. Thanks!

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Hey. I'm not really sure what to do with this journal. It's different I guess, writing down my  personal thoughts. Ranting on a piece of paper. I guess I'll start off with my name. I'm Ali Johnson and I'm a 15 year old girl who lives in Peebles, Scotland and attends Richardson High. I have shoulder length dark brown hair and green eyes. I wouldn't say I'm tall but then I wouldn't say I'm short either. So the other day my mum came in to my room, I was just relaxing on my bed, the dark grey covers surrounding me like a cocoon all the warmth and heat on the inside. All of the cold and people, on the outside. It's like my own personal bubble. Just me, my headphones and my thoughts. She gave me the journal. It has a soft maroon leather casing and A5 white pages on the inside lined with black ink. I fingered the soft leather and flipped through the pages of the book.

"What's this for ma?" I asked

"It's for you hun!" she exclaimed. She saw my confused look and began to explain. "It's for you to.. write down your thoughts,"

"Oh, uh, thanks ma, I guess I will, uh, start thinking!" I smiled. Mum smiled back and walked out, closing the door behind her. I walked over to my closet and threw the journal to the back of the closet.

Ugh, why does she always do this. My father passed away last year, she knows that I hate bringing those thoughts up in my head over and over again. He passed away due to lung cancer. I guess you could call him a smoker. I loved my dad so much but there were certain things that made me despise him. Whenever he was sad or miserable with his day he would drink a lot. When he had been drinking a lot he would disappear for 24 hours. Another thing that especially disgusted me was the fact that he smoked. A lot. 2 packs a day to be precise which you can now guess is the reason he got lung cancer. He suffered for a couple of months but it got to the point that the doctors couldn't do anything for him. He passed away a couple of days before my parents 20th anniversary. I mean I love my mum and all but she's always trying to get me to... express my feelings. I guess she worries about me sometimes, with my favourite colour being grey and the fact that I love to hide up in my room everything silent and private away from my rowdy friends and fam - *thud* what the hell was that?!

"Oh shit, ow ow ow ow ow ow,"

Nevermind, that would be my brother, Thomas.

"Hey Ali," he said opening my bedroom door and sliding inside, leaning against the door frame.

"Hey Tommo," I answered back

"Well mum said that she wants you to come downstairs and help her clean out the basement," he said

"Why can't you do it?!" I complained

"Mum didn't ask me did she. She asked you," he chuckled

"Slacker," I mumbled

"Loser," he laughed.

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I walked downstairs to the basement to find my mum crying on the floor. I stopped short in my tracks looking down at what she was holding. It was a picture of her and my dad, on their wedding night. She isn't taking my dads passing on so well. She lost her one true love and I just wish I could do anything to make her feel better. When she goes to work I usually get voicemails from her crying and upset and when she gets home her makeup is running down her face and the first thing she does is run upstairs to her room and put the music on full blast. In our family we usually use music to calm us down, block us out from the world.

"Mum are you ok?" I asked, I knew it was a stupid question but I always have to check on her.

She looked up at me, mascara streaming down her face, "Oh hun! I hate it when you see me like this," wiping the mascara from her face. I bent down to hug her but all she did was push me away.

"I'm fine hun, I really am. Just a bit sad thinking of all these memories of your father," she said looking longingly down at the picture.

I stood up and walked over to an box of old clothes that had belonged to my father. I picked up a shirt, stained with blood from all the blood noses he used to get. A small tear rolled down my face. I wasn't used to feeling these kinds of emotions. I had been like this for the past month, having breakdowns in my room and shutting out all of my friends. At school I would never socialise, I would sit by myself in the library in my secret space that I had discovered a couple of years ago, a spot no one knew about. I looked into my brothers room to see him sitting on his bed. His chest heaving, his breathing fast. He looked at me and our eyes locked and as if in slow motion he fell back onto his bed.

"THOMAS!!" I screamed


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